"Buried, almost tangible secrets filled the space between them, and so, without a second to think, she closed it."
The scars of war opened more wounds than Harry Potter thought possible. As he returns to Hogwarts for his eighth and final year, he le...
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THE FEELING OF INTENSE DREAD plagued Harry's psyche for the entire night.
He awoke to the pins and needles down his back, aches where he had rolled around in his sleep, and a heaviness throughout his entire body from lack of sleep. He still felt that aching guilt that was ripping holes into his chest. He ignored it as much as he could, doing his best to try and distract himself.
Being alone in the dark did nothing to stop his endless thoughts, so he picked up his blankets and pillow, and migrated down to Ron's room. He let Harry sleep on his floor with no questions and all the jokes Ron could think of. That was the thing about Harry and Ron's friendship: they were there for each other, at the ready with jokes and laughter to keep the other distracted and happy, always without questions. It felt nice to talk things over with Hermione, but it felt great to just forget about his troubles and laugh endlessly with Ron.
That was how Ron and Harry ended up chatting about anything and everything under the sun. They started with classes they were taking, and then somehow changed to Harry trying his hardest to explain how flashlights work when he did not know the answer himself.
Now the conversation had moved into conspiracy theories about Wizarding entertainment and their own lives.
"What if Hermione was sorted into Ravenclaw, like we thought she would?" asked Ron at one point.
Harry was stumped. "I think we'd be dead."
"Yeah, obviously," Ron laughed, his words and tone entirely truthful. "We'd be goners by third year."
"I'd be dead my first year. Remember that logic thing she did with potions before I got to the Philosopher's Stone?"
Ron shrugged. "Dunno, mate. I was out cold after that wicked game of Wizarding chess."
"She's right, we are idiots."
"That's why we work." Ron laughed along with Harry, but with a melancholy tone to his words. "It cancels out. We're equally daft, she's got the brains of double any other smart person. So it's a balance."
Harry was about to delve into conspiracies about what other times they could have died without Hermione when a very loud voice interrupted him. Mrs. Weasley had called his name, "Harry, dear!"
"Yes?" asked Harry, projecting his voice out of the door towards the stairs.
"HARRY!" She was screaming now; Ron bit back a snide comment as Harry clapped his hands over his ears. "ARE YOU AWAKE?"
